


Just as Sweet

by ashborn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Gen, harry and ginny love each other so much, harry finally gets some damn professional help, harry potter should not be allowed to name children, the author has strong negative feelings about the name albus severus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-02 07:31:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19194466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashborn/pseuds/ashborn
Summary: Ginny adores Harry, and she really would like to let this one little thing slide. It's just...how little is the name of your child, really?---Ginny has a discussion with Harry about the name of their upcoming child.





	Just as Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own anything, it all belongs to JK :)

There was no reason for Ginny to be as nervous as she was. She had survived a childhood with the twins, temporary possession by a bit of Voldemort’s soul, an entire _war_ , and countless professional—meaning brutal—quidditch games. Yet, she can’t help but to twist the fabric of her shirt with sweaty palms as she plans how exactly she’s going to reveal to her husband that his dreams are only going to come true over her dead body. Perhaps not even then if there was a way to write this decision into her will.

Ginny really, _really_ should have known this was coming. Quite honestly, it wasn’t something that she had given much thought to since she was a small moon-eyed girl, obsessed with _The Great Harry Potter_. The myth and the legend forever capitalized in her mind’s eye. She smiles softly at the thought. Sometimes she wished she could use a time-turner to go back and tell her younger self that the man behind the name—anxious, scrawny, specky git that he was at the time—was far better than anything any book or gossip rag had ever written about him. ‘Just Harry,’ that’s how he once told her he described himself to Hagrid. Her beautiful, brilliant, sweet Harry.

 _“And now,”_ she thought to herself with a wince, “ _I’m going to have to swipe the rug right from under his feet…”_

The other night, Ron and Hermione had joined them at a local muggle pub for their weekly Saturday brunch. And Ron had to go open his big mouth and ask them both a question that Ginny had forced deep into the recesses of her mind.

_“Well, what are you going to name it, then?”_

And her beautiful, brilliant, sweet, _emotionally stunted_ , husband had answered, _“Erm…well, we haven’t really discussed it just yet, but I was maybe thinking James Sirius, y’know, to remember them by.”_

Hermione had given him a sweet and understanding smile and Ron had clapped him on the arm, and when Harry turned his eyes to Ginny herself, looking like a guilty puppy, she had given him a small smile. Was there anything else to do, really? Didn’t Harry have the right after all he had been through to be given this one thing? Ginny understood the urge, and it wasn’t an awful name but…there were so many things she had an issue with. First and foremost, it was a decision they should be making together, and he was right—they hadn’t talked about it yet. They had decorated the nursery after they found out their upcoming little bundle was a boy. Pretty sky blue with tiny golden snitches, brooms, and quidditch hoops during the day and at night the color changed to a deeper midnight blue and the decorations turned silver and flittered about the room. A rather impressive bit of charm work, if she did say so herself, that they researched and did _together_.

Before the tiny little sprog was even a blink in their eyes, they made decisions about their future together. Ginny was going back to school. Quite surprisingly, at least to everyone but her apparently, Harry also wanted to go back to school. He wanted to have one year where he was just a regular student as much as possible when one’s name is Harry Potter, anyway. They both agreed that it was a good move for him emotionally as well as politically—the last thing he wanted was to be accused of favoritism, even if the Auror Department had been hounding him to join immediately. He needed time. They needed time. Harry needed the confidence that came from feeling like he had earned something all on his own. Ginny understood that, and she comforted him when other people had not understood. Most notably Ron, though all of that was quite a short-lived row once Hermione had gotten a hold of him. Ron had never considered what it would be like not at Harry’s side.

After only a few short and tense hours, Ron had come over and haltingly told Harry that he always had the idea they would enter the Auror Academy together and be crime-fighting partners until they were grey and dead, _obviously_. Poor Harry had looked at Ron bewilderingly and asked if Ron even _wanted_ to be an auror.

As long as she lives, Ginny will remember the utterly confused and lost expression on Ron’s face when he realized that, no, he didn’t want to be an auror, actually. Days, weeks, or months away from Hermione. Long stake-outs hiding in bushes without shelter or food. Constant threat of death or injury. Harry listed off these things with a polite but pointed tone, asking if Ron had suddenly taken a fancy to any of those things and Ron’s jaw had dropped.

_“Abso-bloodly-lutely not! Why would I ever want to do any of that again?”_

_“You don’t, Ron. But…those are all parts of being an auror. Not to mention the mountains of paperwork.”_

_“Right, then. That’s out,"_   Ron had paused and sat quietly for a full ten minutes before abruptly standing, looking distracted, _"Thanks for the chat, mate, I'll see ya.”_ Then Ron had hurried out of the door muttering something that sounded suspiciously like,  _"I've gotta figure my life out."_

And that had, quite neatly, been that.

Their school year together had been nothing short of bliss. Within the walls of Hogwarts, people were generally respectful of Harry and his space. The stuttering and stammering from some of the younger years faded quite quickly when they saw everyone else treating Harry like a normal student, and really it’s rather difficult to hero-worship someone when all you ever see them do is eat and study and take strolls with their girlfriend. One of the other major decisions that Harry and Ginny had together was to each see a mind healer throughout the year at Hogwarts—a service that St. Mungo’s had been happy to offer to the student population, after everything. They talked to each other, constantly. When Harry couldn’t talk—he wrote. His mind healer had encouraged him to keep a journal and when Harry couldn’t force himself to talk about something, he would just hand over the journal and they could discuss it from there. It worked so wonderfully that Harry had started keeping one for her. He had even told her he loved her for the first time through the journal. She had read that particular entry so many times she could recite every word and awkward inflection in her mind:

_Gin,_

_I know this is something I should say out loud. I must have tried about a million times and I’m getting frustrated with myself. So, here it goes. I love you. I’ve never said that to anyone else before, not directly, and I guess maybe I just don’t know how to say it. But, I do. Love you, I mean. I thought you should know. I wanted you to know._

_Love,_

_Harry_

After Ginny had enthusiastically snogged him for his efforts, she told him that she happened to love him too, quite a lot, really. It was embarrassing, how much. Harry had given her the biggest brightest grin that was pure patronus-fodder and said it out loud, at last. He then proceeded to spend the next month grabbing everybody he cared about and looking them quite seriously in the eye and telling them earnestly that he loved them. What followed was a hilarious series of events in which Ginny followed Harry around to these forays and watched with glee from the background. Her mum had cried, and her dad looked suspiciously misty-eyed himself. George had cracked his first joke in a long while when he dramatically told Harry that since he was dating his little sister, their love was forbidden, but always in their hearts. Hermione was amused but simply told him she loved him as well, though she had already gathered that much for herself. Neville blushed—fully blushed! Though he had stammered out his sincere love as well.

McGonagall had patted him on the cheek and replied, _“Just so. I am quite fond of you as well, Mr. Potter,”_ which may have meant more to him than anyone else combined.

Ron had gripped Harry back and said, _“I love you too. Please tell me you’re not dying…again. I don’t appreciate it when you do that,”_ which had Hermione’s ‘use your words’ lecture stamped all over it.

There were some that she wasn’t there for—Luna, Hagrid, Teddy (though Harry assured her she hadn’t missed much with that one considering Teddy was a baby and had a limited vocabulary but he did turn his hair black which is as good of a confirmation as any), his parent’s graves, and Dumbledore’s portrait to which Harry had said, _“I would quite like to punch you in the face,”_ and Dumbledore was able to interpret the unspoken words.

Though she had missed those rare few, Harry’s journey to a healthier and happier version of himself was often something they did _together_. Her decision to join the Harpies was a joint one. Harry’s decision to join the aurors was a joint one. When Harry finished his training and came home after his twentieth mission looking haunted, exhausted, and like all of his mind-healing had come unraveled, the decision for him to resign was mutual. Harry took time off and enjoyed being a house-husband for a bit, and picked back up on his therapy. He travelled with Ginny for her games and they used to her time off the pitch to enjoy being tourists on basically an extended honeymoon. When Harry decided to get his mastery in Defense, they both agreed.

They both decided what to do with the _hundreds_ of properties he ended up holding after the war—something Ginny was uncomfortable with, at first, but Harry had rolled his eyes and said, _“but you’re my wife, they’re yours too,”_ except Ginny was not, in fact, his wife.

They weren’t even engaged, at the time. Harry only seemed to realize what he said at her utterly dumbstruck expression and, predictably he panicked and started apologizing. Not predictably, he had a ring in his pocket, and he punctuated his apologies with a proposal. They were engaged minutes later and married only a few months after that.

So, Ginny had not expected to be blindsided with her own child’s name. It was a decision they should be making together. She knows it was, for the most part a passing comment, knows that if she hated the name Harry would toss it. She doesn’t hate the name though, and she doesn’t want to say anything that will hurt Harry. It’s more the thought that she doesn’t want their children to have legacy names. Names of the recently dead. Surely they’ll be under enough scrutiny as it is with Harry Potter as their father and, she admits to herself with some pride, her as their mother. This is a conversation they must have. So Ginny steels herself, wipes her palms, and pushes open the door to Harry’s study.

He looks up at her and smiles, “I was wondering when you would come in. You’ve been standing there hovering for a while. I was starting to wonder if you were plotting my murder.”

Ginny laughs, some of the tension leaving her at his teasing, “Obviously. Haven’t you seen the paper, recently? I’ve got to get that Potter fortune all to myself before I run off with Neville. Or Luna. I can’t remember who I’m gallivanting with this month.”

“Best be Luna, I’m carrying out the secret love affair with Neville these days. I fear his heart will be utterly shattered if you kill his lover. He may never recover, and you would have to watch your back for deadly plants constantly,” Harry jokes back with a cheeky grin.

Ginny suddenly feels very foolish. How could she have thought this conversation would cause a row? Harry was on her side, always, just like she was on his. They were a team. She winks and sits herself upon his desk, leaning down to meet him when he reaches for a kiss.

“So. There’s something I would like to discuss. The name. For the baby. The baby’s name.”

“Ah. You don’t like James Sirius, then. I was wondering when we would talk about this.”

Harry doesn’t seem particularly upset but Ginny still feels a small flair of nerves. “That’s not it, exactly. It’s a perfectly nice name. I appreciate your desire to honor the people you love and that you lost. At least you don’t want to name our baby something ridiculous like…’Albus Severus’ or something.”

“Well _actually_...”

“Hadrian James Potter! Don’t even _start_ —”

Harry smirks at her and tugs on a lock of her hair, “You should see your face. Come on, what a Merlin-awful name. Even I'm not _that_ oblivious.”

Ginny rolls her eyes muttering something about difficult husbands, heart-attacks, and stupidly noble gits. “How about this…tell me the story of your first time in Diagon Alley.”

Harry looks confused at this sudden topic change but complies. He talks about Hagrid’s kindness, his own wonder at the magic everywhere, and he talks about the strangers that kept crying or shaking his hand and then he stops. He tilts his head in a way that Ginny knows means he’s contemplating something.

Eventually Harry nods, like he has solved a grand mystery. “You don’t want them to have a name with history. They’ll be famous regardless, but naming him James Sirius is just…” Harry pauses, looking for the right word, “loaded? Loaded.”

Ginny could cry from relief that she didn’t have to go on her planned spiel. That he understands. That he’s not upset. “Yes! Exactly that. I would like for them to be their own people. I don’t want them to be…born into expectations or memories. They have a whole new little life to create that’s all their own. They have the Potter legacy; the rest should be theirs.”

Harry nods slowly, still looking like he’s thinking before running his hand through his hair in a small gesture of defeat. “You’re right. I just…I dunno. Wanted to honor them, I guess.”

“Well…I have an idea about that, if you want,” Ginny offers hesitantly, continuing at Harry’s nod, “The Blacks have their whole star thing going, and if we could find anything not horrendous, we could continue that tradition. And you Potter men have the dad’s first name as the child’s middle name tradition. His middle name could be Hadrian.”

Harry looks both touched and pleased by this and nods his consent before tugging her from the desk to his lap to snog her thoroughly. She hears his silent, _“thank you,”_ with every brush of his lips against hers.

\---

Several months later, Ginny is laying in a bed at St. Mungo’s staring in awe at her son. A tiny, perfect, _absolutely flawless_ human being with a shock of black hair and hazel eyes. Neither her nor Harry have taken their eyes off of him since he came into the world. She hears the door open and shut and a herd of footsteps rushing to get a look at the newest member of their family. She finally looks away from the baby in her arms in order to smile at Harry.

“Everyone, please meet Castor Hadrian Potter.”

 _It’s a good name_ , Ginny thinks, watching as Harry shows off baby Cas to everyone, radiating happiness and pride. _It’s a good life._

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this rambling story! Comments and kudos much appreciated! :)


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